Kidnapping Isn't in the Playbook
by lynn138
Summary: Shawn's latest case takes him and Gus to a new high school where Shawn's cousin happens to be the main suspect in a kidnapping case. It's hard to find a criminal on a campus of 4,000 students. Can Shawn find the real kidnapper before it's too late?
1. 1987

So...heya people. This is a psychfic written by myself, and my friend. Enjoy the collaberation.

Disclaimer: We don't own Psych...if we did, well, that would be awesome.

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1987

Shouts filled the air as a dark-skinned boy tackled another boy to the ground.

"Gotcha!" he called out in victory. Excitement plastered itself on his face.

"Not fair Gus!" his friend protested from underneath him. "You know the slippery areas of the grass are off-limits!"

Gus threw his freckled playmate a smug grin. "I'm not the one who ran over there." He stood and held out his hand expectantly.

"What?"

"You know what Shawn. It's my turn to throw the football. Hand it over."

Shawn frowned and pulled a blade of grass from his shaggy brown hair. "Fine. Here."

"Sweet!" Gus squeezed the ball tightly. "Okay, start running!"

Shawn rose reluctantly and dusted off his shirt as he began to run backwards. If his dad caught him with a messy shirt, he wouldn't be able to go to the arcade with Gus that weekend. As he ran back, his eyes scanned the backyard. Green grass made up most of it, minus the bushes that aligned the perimeter and the white fence he had tried to climb over last week. Didn't work out so well, and he ended up having to spend an hour shopping with his dad for new pants.He shuddered at the memory.

Hopefully he would never have to repeat that trip.

A brown blur whizzed past him and stirred him out of his reminiscence. He heard a distinct 'thud' as it hit a chair on the porch. The boy glared at his friend. "Gus! You could've broken the window! Watch your aim."

Gus shrugged. "I wasn't aiming for you."

What did he mean, he wasn't aiming for him? Of course he was. They were playing with the football, and the idea was to throw it to the other person and then see how long they could dodge the thrower for.

A sudden jolt to the head knocked him to the ground. What the heck? Shawn looked at the ground next to him. The football laid there mocking his lack of attention. Annoyed, he picked it up and looked toward the direction it had been projected from.

Standing on the porch was a boy a year or two older than Shawn. He had ruffled brown hair and cocky, icy eyes. What annoyed Shawn was the confident stance and guilty grin. Before Shawn could say anything, Henry Spencer appeared at the door and walked outside into the sunny afternoon. He placed a hand on the mysterious boy's shoulder.

"Gus! Time to go home. Shawn, your cousin's here!"

A throbbing pain appeared in the back of Shawn's head. "Yeah, I know."

--

Henry glanced at his son again. He'd given up on telling the boy to sit up. Of all the times Shawn had to be stubborn, it was when his Aunt and Uncle were over. During dinner.

Shawn had slid down so far in his seat that technically, he was no longer sitting in the chair. He rested his chin on his hand and spun his fork on the plate with the other. He hated adult conversations. They were usually about something stupid or boring. For an hour now, his father and uncle had been talking about fishing. Fishing was boring and stupid. He'd been able to ignore them while he was eating, but now that he was full, he prayed that his father would give him a dismissive look.

He may have been able to bear it if his cousin was still there. Shawn really did like his cousin. He could talk to him and sometimes, sometimes understand him. Especially about Voltron. Or Star Wars. He liked talking about Star Wars, even if the movie had been way too long for him to sit through.

At the moment though, his cousin was absent. He had wolfed down his dinner in about five seconds and promptly left to do homework, leaving Shawn alone and bored and surrounded by grown-ups.

In the other room, he heard a book shut and noticed a light turn off. Shawn pulled himself back into his seat and listened.

His cousin walked in books in hand. He nodded to Henry as he head toward his parents.He leaned over her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, "Night mom."

Shawn's aunt smiled. "Alright. G'night dear."

He hugged his dad briefly and walked around the table toward Shawn. He stopped for a second to mess up his "baby cousin's" hair.

"Night Squirt," he said through a laugh.

Shawn quickly tried to fix his hair and shoot him a dirty look as he walked out of the kitchen.Grumbling, the boy slid back into his slouching position. "Why does his always call me that? It's like he's the devil or something. He's always being mean and throwing things at my head."

"Shawn!" Henry sent an icy glare in his son's direction.

"What?! It's true!"


	2. Very Cherry

Cool...Chapter 2 is up. Three will reveal at 5 reviews : )

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: My partner in crime (I mean...writing) and I don't own Psych or it's characters.

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"I'm seeing pink- no, no. Maybe...maybe a red. Chartruce? Marron? No, redder and liquid. Blood? Nah, not that sticky. No! It's...wait...it's...cherry soda?"

A much older Gus hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. All eyes were on Shawn and he was milking it by stretching his ramblings for as long as he could hold someone's attention. Sure, they lead back to a clue in some case, eventually, but it was like wadding through quicksand until Shawn got to his point. Many times Gus had just wanted to shout out the discovery, but that would "ruin the dramatic effect" (or so he'd been told).

...and it would kind of expose the whole "fake psychic" scam they were running.

"Cherry soda. Yep, definitely cherry soda...only without the soda. A really, really, red cherry, like the ones you get in a bar. I love those cherries. Taste like candy, not to mention the little swords are awesome-no, these are different. Like those little plastic sticks," Shawn paused for a moment and rubbed his temple. "He's in a...bar!"

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, an Irish man with every bit of anger the island had on it within him, rolled his eyes. "Why, thank you, Mr. Spencer. You've just guessed what half of the force already assumed."

"Did half of the force assume that he was at the West Pint Saloon at 6:43, sitting with a nice lady named Sherrie Cherry?"

Lassiter's mouth briefly fell open before he quickly resumed his serious façade. Dang. How had the man managed that one? It sure as heck wasn't because he was "psychic".

"Lucky guess," he resigned to mutter.

Shawn opened his eyes and smiled at the grumpy man.

"Shame on you, Lassie. Everyone knows that the spirits never guess. If they did, I wouldn't have won the lottery last week."

Gus raised an eyebrow. This was something he hadn't heard. "You won the lottery Shawn? And then made ME pay for lunch?!"

Juliet, Detective Lassiter's partner, stifled a laugh.

Shawn shrugged nonchalantly. "I only won ten bucks. And it went towards YOUR pineapple smoothie yesterday."

"But I didn't get to actually drink that Shawn. It was half-gone when you handed it to me."

"Was it?" Shawn looked like he was innocently pondering the accusation. "My bad."

Karen Vick, Santa Barbara's Chief of Police, noticed a dangerous glint in the Head Detective's locked gaze on the psychic. Deciding to prevent a loud, verbal confrontation, she stepped in."The lead sounds worth checking out. Detective, send a squad car to West Point tonight and see if our man shows up."

"Chief! That's ridiculous! There is no way Spencer"- He said 'Spencer' like it was a lame dog- " could know that!"

"Aggh!" His eyes closed and Shawn's hands flew to their trade-mark "vision" position at his temple. "I'm getting something!"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Of course you are."

"Ssh!" Juliet lightly smacked him in the arm.

"It's the husband! He's-he's at the bar! There's a clock! It says...five o'clock! He'll be there at 5 o'clock!" Shawn's eyes flew open. "Gus! What time is it?"

"4:45," Juliet responded automatically before Gus could lift his sleeve.

Karen sent a pointed look towards her colleague. "Go."

A defeated, annoyed look plastered itself upon the Irish detective's face as he exited the office. No one envied the next poor officer who would happen to cross his path.

"Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick said while she straightened some of files on her desk, "If that tip pans out then you will have found and stopped an extortionist before he had a chance to leave the state and you'll have helped the SBPD solve another case. Thank you."

Shawn smiled at Vick, "Well, I haven't solved anything yet but you're welcome any way. Glad to help".

He stopped and stood up, "Is there anything else you need chief?"

"Not at the movement".

"Alright," he said stretching his arms for dramatic effect (winking at Juliet when his shirt lifted slightly). "Guess that's good. Been burning the midnight oil. You know important psychic stuff. Gotta get all my visions in a row."

Gus covered his eyes so one could see him roll them. World of War craft hardly counted as 'important psychic stuff'.

Vick just smiled and looked back down at her files.

"Are you sure there's nothing you could need a psychic for?"

"Pretty sure."

"Does that mean you do?"

"Maybe."

Gus tensed up as he felt his weekend slipping away.

"Maybe as in yes or no?" Shawn asked as began bouncing up and down.

"As in not really. Are you really that interested Mr. Spencer?"

"Well, now you have me curious."

Vick sighed and opened a file, "The biggest thing we have is a kidnapping and we already have a suspect".

"Are they in custody?'

"No," Juliet jumped in. "We had to release him due to lack of evidence. He's not allowed to leave the state and we're sending an undercover officer to tail him".

"Really?" Shawn said resting his hand on his chin, "What's the scoop?"

Vick glanced at Juliet to see if she would interrupt again. The junior detective blushed and looked down at her clip board. Good, no problem there. "A QB for one of the local high school football teams recently went missing. He was last seen Friday during a practice. Apparently, he had to stay after and Coach Baron was the last person to have seen him."

Shawn nodded as he intently listened. "Baron? Ice Cream man, Teacher, police officer, chick in Mexico (it was her first name), Hippie, Molecular Biologist, and my cousin..." He paused, realizing that everyone was staring blankly at him. Maybe he had overdone it. "Was this coach your suspect?"

"Our main one, at the moment. But since we only have circumstantial evidence, we had to release him."

Gus glanced around the room, "Do you mean he's back at the school? With students?"

"We had to let him back. Theirs testing and games coming up and the school wouldn't suspend him unless we were positive he was responsible," Vick answered and mumbled, "His alibi was the worst I've ever heard. We're sending an officer to tail him starting tomorrow."

How bad?"Vick looked up, "Please Mr. Spencer, don't make me repeat it."

Shawn nodded and looked down. Now he was really curious but this time he couldn't just joke the Chief it to revealing her secrets. He had to find though. Why? 'Cause he wanted too, and nothing was scheduled for Psych for awhile. A case, a chance to hang out at the station and see Juliet (like he needed one) and eliminate the threat of potential boredom, It all sounded like a pretty sweet deal to him.

"Is there anything else I can do for you Mr. Spencer?"

"No, but..."

Gus hung on to that "but". That "but" meant a headache, using the company car, and just general Spencer chaos.

"You said you were sending an officer to tail him," Shawn said. His eyes were filled with excitement and his words rushed out. "Why don't Gus and I tail him? And I can read him psychically from a distance. You can know by tomorrow whether or not you have the right guy."

Karen mulled over the possibility. The duo in front of her did have an impressive streak of crime-solving under their belts. And there couldn't be any harm in sending them to a school. She could keep another one of her office close by in case of emergencies. If Lassiter had been there, she knew he would make some comment about the school being the only appropriate place to send Spencer. If he got into trouble Spencer could talk his way out of it and, if not security could be there in minutes. Why not? The Chief picked up a file at the corner of her desk. "Here's what we have so far. Read over it, and report to the school tomorrow. Call if you find anything."

Shawn's triumphant grin lit the room. "No worries ma'am. Gus and I are like Mandy Patinkin and Andre the Giant. We have what it takes and we stick together, only my dad wasn't killed by a six fingered man."

Gus glared at his friend. "I'm not being Andre the Giant Shawn."

"Well you aren't Cary Elwes," Shawn pointed out.

"Just find us the kidnapper, Mr. Spencer. Please?" Vick's eyes pleaded with him to take the matter seriously.

"No worries," he smiled. "We _always_ get our guy."

As Detective O'Hara followed them out of her glass door, she sighed. He had a point.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Gus trailed his confident friend as he waltzed out the doors of the Santa Barbara Police Station. Like he owned the place, almost. It never ceased to amaze him how his friend could walk in, reveal a vital piece of information, and walk right back out and look for the next thing.

"Shawn?"

"Yeah Gus?" They walked down the front stairs and out to the parking lot.

"Tell me, how'd you know he was going to be at the bar tonight?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Alright then, tell me why you had us take this case."

Shawn walked around the car onto the passages side of the company car, "He had reservations."

Gus paused at the drive side door, "What do reservations have to do with me having to spend the next week with you at a high school?"

"No," Shawn said as he opened the car door and climbed in, Gus quickly followed, "The husband. I was calling up the local bars he'd be seen in. The owner of the West point said he had a reservation for the suspect at five o' clock."

"He's on the run, Shawn. What makes you think he's going to stay in town for a date?"

"Gus, you underestimate the power of infatuation. You should know its draw better than anyone else in this car," Gus rolled his eyes and Shawn continued, "Apparently our guy really had a thing for Sherrie Cherry. Six months and never late for a single date, I'd have to say that's a pretty impressive track record."

Gus tilted his head in agreement and Shawn smiled out the car window. There would be no talking for the next few minutes. Shawn didn't understand Gus's paranoia about pulling out of parking lots. However he did learn, weeks after getting his license, that talking while Gus was pulling onto the street would result in a five minute safety lecture in a stationary car with people honking behind them. Once a guy got out of his pick-up truck and told them to move. Shawn never really got over how tall that man had been and had referred to him as Big Foot for about two months after the incident.

"So why did you get us on this case?"

Shawn blinked back to reality, "Huh?"

"You heard me Shawn," Gus said as the car stopped at the first red light, "Why are we on a case that Chief Vick didn't actually want to give us?"

"What do you mean? The Chief was tickled pink when we took the case."

"She was not, and you took the case. Some of us have jobs other than prancing around pretending to talk to ghosts."

Shawn looked back out the window. Time for some hardcore twisting of words and Gus's will.

"You know," He began. "The case at the new High School."

Gus glanced at Shawn, "How do you know?"

"I saw it when Vick opened the file. We've never been to that school."

"I never want to go to any High School ever. It was horrible enough at ours'. I'm glad that I'll never have to see that place ever again."

"Oh, come on. You're just as curious as I am."

"I am not."

"Are too."

Gus shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. "Alright, but just this once, I don't like schools Shawn, not since Johnny Trent tried to give me a swirly the last day of Senor Year."

"Dude your still on that?"

"I had no hair."

"So he gave up?"

"No Shawn, he made my scalp swirl."

"Ah," Shawn paused, "So does that mean you're coming?"

"I already said yes."

Shawn threw a fist in the air. So maybe it was hardcore manipulation, Gus was just that easy to convince, "Sweet! Oh, I'm thinking Italian tonight. I'm really diggin' some garlic bread at the moment."

Gus rolled his eyes and settled on getting home safely as his new goal in life.


End file.
